


Focus

by corellianrogue



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Character Study, Duty, Gen, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corellianrogue/pseuds/corellianrogue
Summary: Just a few FFXIII ficlets focusing (ha) on Hope and Vanille, mainly. Hope thinks too much, Snow and Vanille both do their best to help, but sometimes Vanille thinks a little too much, too.





	1. Life or Something Like It

**Author's Note:**

> Pulse is a dangerous world, even if you’re a l’Cie. But sometimes the most dangerous places are all in your head. Hope spends way too much time there.
> 
> Written for the 2011 hc_bingo challenge on LJ.
> 
> Cleaning up and posting the rest of my old fic that never made it here to AO3. Don't mind the dust.

Hope stared up at the false moon that filled the sky from down here. Cocoon. Home.  
  
A home that thought he was pure evil. He rubbed a hand absently over his wrist and the mark hidden under his bandana. Except it wasn’t home anymore, was it? He wondered if his father was even still alive. After they’d left, had the soldiers killed him? Was he an orphan for real by now?  
  
He sighed, shoving himself to his feet to walk around the edge of the camp. He’d drawn the short straw for the middle watch, but he supposed he should at least be glad that they trusted him enough now to give him any watch at all. Before this all started, he wasn’t sure he would have trusted himself enough. He’d spent most of his time running away from his problems, but he couldn’t exactly get away from this one, could he? None of them could.  
  
Destroy everything he’d ever known, or become a monster right out of a nightmare. How was that for a choice? Whenever they fought a Cie’th he wondered, do they go crazy as soon as they change? Or are they just in so much pain because of what they’ve become that they want to die?  
  
Would he still remember who he was when he wasn’t him anymore?  
  
He jumped when he heard a sound behind him, swinging around, boomerang raised, only to find Snow with his hands up and a wary smile on his face. “Whoa, kid. Little jumpy there?”  
  
...Great. Just great. They were never going to trust him again. His shoulders slumped as he lowered his weapon. “Sorry. Was just thinking.”  
  
Snow nodded, like this was a perfectly normal conversation to have in near-whispers in the middle of the night on the camping trip from hell. Snow’s definition of normal had always seemed a little suspect. “Understandable. There’s a lot to think about.”  
  
Hope hesitated but eventually shrugged. “Yeah. Do you... do you really think we’ll make it?” They had to survive Pulse, let alone all the people on Cocoon who wanted them dead, assuming they ever even managed to find a way up there, and they still didn’t know if they’d be able to complete their Focus. That was a lot of if.  
  
Not that it seemed to bother Snow. He struck his ‘hero’ pose that always made Hope roll his eyes. “You can count on it. Serah trusted us not to fail. So we won’t fail. You’ll see.”  
  
Hope turned back to the dark landscape, turning his back on Snow again. “Yeah. I’ll see.”  
  
He heard the footsteps this time, so he didn’t jump when Snow curled an arm around his shoulders. “I’m serious. We’ll beat whoever we have to beat to finish this. Even Dysley. Show him that we aren’t his pawns, even if we are l’Cie.”  
  
That was a pretty convincing argument. Maybe he was already going crazy. He craned his neck to look up at Snow. “You really think so?”  
  
Snow laughed and ruffled his hair, ignoring Hope’s automatic protest. “Yes, I think so. I just said, didn’t I? As long as we stick together, we’re golden.” He shoved at Hope’s shoulder. “Now go to bed. I can get the rest of this watch.”  
  
Hope stood his ground. “I... I’d like to stay up. I mean. I’m good. To keep watch.” At least it was dark so Snow couldn’t mock him for being embarrassed on top of everything. “You can stay, if you want, though.”  
  
Snow nodded after a second. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay.”  
  
They fell silent after that, and Hope went back to his thoughts, watching Cocoon as much as for monsters. So maybe he was a l’Cie and doomed at fifteen. That sucked, but maybe there was something good about it, too. Maybe he didn’t have a family anymore, but he’d found the next best thing. Fighting next to them, and sometimes fighting with them, had taught him a lot about himself. Most of it wasn’t very good, but they still had a long ways to go. Maybe...  
  
“Oh, and Hope?”  
  
He jerked out of his thoughts again, almost as startled as the first time. “Huh?”  
  
Snow tapped his own forehead. “Stop thinking so much. You’re giving _me_ a migraine.”  
  
Sometimes he still had to remind himself that killing family was bad.


	2. Happy Accidents?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One night on Pulse, Hope gets a bit too far into his own head, but luckily Vanille is there to confuse him back out of it.
> 
> Written for the 2012 hc_bingo challenge on LJ.

One very early morning, between being relieved of his watch and actually falling asleep, as he stared up at Gran Pulse’s foreign sky, Hope realized his entire life had been one long string of accidents.  
  
His birth had been an accident, at least as far as his father was concerned. His mother had wanted children, but his father had been too busy with a career and a life to even consider the idea. So when he’d finally come along, his father was still too busy with everything but his family. Some tiny part of Hope still resented him for it, even now after everything his father had done for them before they fled Cocoon. No matter the circumstances he’d been born under, his mother hadn’t deserved to be ignored along with him.  
  
His mother...  
  
Being in Bodhum at the wrong time had obviously been an accident. Even his being with the others when they fought the fal’Cie Anima was an accident. An accident brought about by his being colossally stupid, maybe, but still an accident.  
  
And now, here they were, stuck on the surface of Gran Pulse, accidental l’Cie in a war none of them actually wanted to fight. He could point to a dozen things easily since he’d left Palumpolum to travel to Bodhum for the fireworks display that couldn’t be attributed to anything more or less than fate and a lousy stroke of luck.  
  
He sighed and turned over, trying to find a comfortable way to lay that didn’t involve seeing Cocoon in the sky. Unfortunately, that way ended up with him staring at Snow’s back, instead. Sometimes, just sometimes, he still felt that flash of rage and hatred at the man who’d, again accidentally, led to his mother’s death, but by painful necessity, logic won out more and more quickly each time. More often now, he was struck by a desire to be as much like Snow as he could, to protect the people he cared about and was responsible for. Even the accidental ones. Like him.  
  
Really, they were all accidents. If Fang and Vanille hadn’t accidentally run into Daj, and then Serah accidentally found Anima, would any of them even be where they were now? Or would they all be dead or worse in the Purge? Or...  
  
He rolled over to his other side, even more restless than when he’d laid down. Footsteps approaching made him open his eyes to find a pair of boots, and eventually a whole Vanille, as she sat down next to him. He scrambled to sit up, hurriedly checking to make sure that, yes, Sazh was still on watch, and no, no one had been killed while he’d been lost in his head.  
  
“If you keep thinking that loudly, you’re going to attract a behemoth or something.”  
  
He laughed sheepishly. “Was it that obvious?”  
  
“Only a lot.”  
  
“...Oh.” Right. Sometimes he forgot how blunt Vanille could be.  
  
She nudged him with her shoulder. “That’s not always a bad thing, you know. Being honest, even when you don’t mean to be.”  
  
“Easy for you to say.”  
  
“Well, yeah. I just did, didn’t I?”  
  
He groaned, remembering at the last second that not everyone was awake, and he shouldn’t be. He was going to be worse than useless if he fell asleep in the middle of a fight. “I need to sleep.”  
  
She nodded but didn’t move. “Mm. Wouldn’t want to cause an accident if you didn’t.”  
  
He stared at her, but there was no way... was there? No. No possible way. “...Right.”  
  
She grinned and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “You shouldn’t worry so much, Hope. Things’ll turn out okay. You’ll see.”  
  
He could only watch her return to her own sleeping spot. She was scary sometimes, in that ‘I’ve just remembered you’re over 500 years old’ way. He flopped back down onto his back, watching Cocoon openly this time. Vanille was right. They’d get back up there, one way or another, and fix everything. Even if it was by accident. Not all accidents were bad, right?  
  
He never even felt himself fall asleep.


	3. Change the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanille’s life isn’t so black and white as it used to be. That takes some getting used to. Even more than choosing to change her fate.
> 
> I don't recall why I decided to write this in first person, but here it is. You've been warned.
> 
> Written for the 2011 hc_bingo challenge on LJ.

When I was little, I thought everything was black and white. There was always a right choice and a wrong choice. Fair and unfair. Good and evil. Growing up in our tiny village, living our lives under the distant rule of the fal’Cie, it was easy to believe that. Easy to see the world in opposites. Harshness and kindness. Hate and love. Keeping something or losing it.  
  
And then I was given a Focus.  
  
I’d known people who were chosen to become l’Cie before. We all had. It wasn’t uncommon. The fal’Cie could only do so much for Gran Pulse, and the rest had to be left up to human hands. Even unwilling ones. But the Focus was always for the good of everyone, so it was the right thing to do. It was almost an honor to be chosen. As long as you did the right things and made the right choices, you’d achieve your Focus and be granted your reward. At least, that’s what I thought then. How easy it is to fall from that sort of faith.  
  
Fang was chosen with me, and others. We were chosen to leave our homes and everything we loved and become something beyond ourselves. Our Focus was so large we’d never heard of it being given before. Destroy Cocoon. Become Ragnarok, the Day of Wrath. End the war and the world with it.  
  
Except I couldn’t do it. I was afraid. Following our Focus should have been easy. It was the right thing to do. But I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to kill all those people. I’d rather have become a Cie’th. How could something that was supposed to be right feel so wrong?  
  
So Fang became Ragnarok without me. Or tried.  
  
I don’t remember everything that happened next. That much is true, at least, so I haven’t lied about everything. Lies. Those are supposed to be wrong, aren’t they? But if Fang doesn’t remember what she did, what we were supposed to do, then wouldn’t it be worse to remind her now?  
  
But I’m getting ahead of myself. The next thing I knew, I woke up. I knew we hadn’t completed our Focus, or at least I hadn’t, but there we were. In this strange new place that was nothing at all like the home we’d left. Fang didn’t remember anything. She didn’t remember our Focus or how we’d got where we were. But I did. I remembered, and I never said a word, and I let that little boy be given something he never should have had to do, because I chose wrong.  
  
But was it wrong? Can we ever judge what’s right and wrong for ourselves?  
  
I thought it was right to go back to Gran Pulse. I just wanted to go home. I thought it was right to avoid my Focus, but isn’t the Focus what’s supposed to be right?  
  
I’ve chosen the wrong things too many times and now all these people are suffering for it. But I’m still scared. I can feel my Focus growing more urgent, always present in the back of my mind, waiting. Ragnarok. Wouldn’t it be right to give in and give birth to the creature that can end all of this suffering? Even if it meant ending the good things, too?  
  
But I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t become Ragnarok. I can’t believe in black and white anymore. I tried to run away, tried to run back to a home I was never supposed to see again, and I can’t do that, either.  
  
I’ll stay, and I’ll fight, and I’ll find Fang again. We’ll save the world. Both of them.  
  
That’s the right thing to do. Isn’t it?


End file.
